


Kiss

by TheInevitableConclusion



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Love, M/M, Memories, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInevitableConclusion/pseuds/TheInevitableConclusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written pre-series 2. Just a little snippet of Sherlock's brain, thinking of kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Written last year for [Niña](http://nininghasfeelings.tumblr.com/) but her original tumblr was eaten so it no longer exists outside of my computer. Would someone please make me write more things?

Sherlock dips in and out of consciousness; his mind shuffling through layers of old information, facts and incidents long forgotten, as if memories he’d deemed irrelevant had been etched permanently on some hidden backup drive, recalled by the tactile sensation of lips on lips.

His first kiss, little Margo Henning’s sticky pink smile close to his own, his cheeks burning, the easy comfort of sitting next to her in the park. His second kiss; his fingers in Colin Stewart’s smooth gold hair, the frantic, gasping energy between them, the smothered feeling of envy...pain...anger when he saw Colin hand in hand with Sherry Donaldson. Sweet lingering kisses from Victor, the slow trail of hands down his abdomen, the bewildering loss of control and the sneer on Victor’s handsome face when Sherlock tried to explain he didn’t need that, didn’t quite like _that,_ would rather not do _that_ again. 

These moments resurface, but they mean nothing. They are faint outlines of feelings, imprints left on the blank pages of a workbook. 

But his last kiss - when he breaks the surface of consciousness he can feel it: John’s dry mouth against his, John’s lungs shoving air into his own, John’s rough hands on his face, anchoring Sherlock, reassuring him. John’s strength, John’s will, John’s heart pulling him back to life. 

This last kiss he will keep. This last kiss, John’s kiss, he will rewrite in bold permanent ink on the back pages of his mind, the place he keeps Mummy’s soft caresses on his tiny fevered forehead, Grandfather’s shaking fingers guiding his chubby ones on the antique microscope, Lestrade’s grudging look of respect and firm handshake when he solves that first case. 

There also is John’s open, honest praise…“that…was amazing…it was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary”…when Sherlock expected irritation, the sound of breathless, exhilarated laughter in John’s voice after a run through dark alleys, and, inexplicably, the fading look in John’s eyes and the slight downturn of John’s straight lips when Sherlock has disappointed him. 

Elsewhere, John’s expressions, his favourite restaurants, stray details of his life and family, and an exhaustive list of the things that most annoy him are filed neatly away. John takes up nearly as much room as the periodic table of the elements, and Sherlock doesn’t begrudge him one bit of it. The Elements of John. 

So Sherlock will keep this kiss, the first John has given him. And he will keep the ones that follow, the ones John gives unconsciously, the hard, anxious ones pressed to his knuckles as the ambulance carries them away. He will keep the kisses; he will have this little piece of John for his own.


End file.
